


A Different Kind of Tenant

by jokersby



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Bad Coping Skills, Drinking, Eventual Smut, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-11-21 22:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11367276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokersby/pseuds/jokersby
Summary: Bruce has to leave Wayne Manor for a while due to renovations and decides (with the help of Alfred), to stay at a local apartment complex on a month-to-month lease.He doesn't expect much excitement, but he instead finds an eclectic man with electric green eyes.





	1. The Lease

**Author's Note:**

> So! This is a thing based on this post [ https://batjokes-hell.tumblr.com/post/159639846726/batjokes-writing-i ] where basically the Joker and Bruce live in the same apartment complex owned by the Penguin.
> 
> So give batjokes-hell a follow and like/reblog their posts, and you can follow me at jokersby.tumblr.com for more batjokes content.
> 
> Comments and kudos' are deeply appreciated!!

In the downtown of Gotham, there was one well-kept apartment complex. On the outside the walls were brick and polka-dotted with windows, and on the inside it was comparatively more well-kept and cleaner than most five-star eating establishments. Walking inside, there were white pillars lining either side of the doors and down along the long rug that led straight to the desk that belonged to the apartment complex’s owner and landlord. The rest of the lobby was decorated nicely with ornate but cheap furniture and low-cost copies of paintings by artists that nobody knows or cares about in wood frames. The floor was a white tile that seemed like it should instead belong in a common household’s kitchen, but it was lined with crisp black lines that cut the lobby into a grid, but near the entrance of the apartment complex the lines were faded due to high traffic.

At the desk that belonged to the apartment complex’s owner sat a portly man with a hooked nose wearing what most people would describe as a ‘penguin’ tuxedo. He was way over dressed for the over-kept low-end apartments, but he blended right in with the black and white lobby. On the desk sat a metal name tag, one in sterling silver and inlayed with black, reading, “Oswald Cobblepot”. His name matched his snobbish, almost cartoonish British caricature. Oswald Cobblepot, or “Mr. Cobblepot” had inherited the apartment complex from his parents, who had kept the establishment the same way as he did now. Clean, respectable, and he kept the mob or gang-related activities in the back or in the basement, usually turning an eye or nosing his way on deals to make an extra buck. That extra income is what he used to keep the building the way it was; clean and expensive looking. He wanted to attract more tenants, and therefore make more cash. He didn’t want to attempt to dive into the mob underground more than he did at the moment, afraid that he would accidentally risk his fine building he had now. It was the only thing he had left, after his parents’ passing.

Mr. Cobblepot was cleaning his outdated desktop computer’s keyboard with a can of compressed air when he heard the entrance doors open, allowing someone to come in, and then shut behind them. He didn’t stop or look up, assuming that it was one of his current tenants returning from the grocery store or their job, but the sound of suit cases dropping and shuffling feet moved his eyes from the keyboard to the man standing on the other side of the cheap wood desk. The man in front of him looked straight out of a fashion magazine. He was textbook tall, dark, and handsome, and was chiseled like fine granite. The stout man shifted in his seat and leaned forward a bit, giving the guest a small, friendly smile as he greeted him.

“Hello, welcome to the Cobblepot Heights Apartments; are you a guest, or are you interested in starting a lease?” Oswald thought about standing up, but he decided not to due to his own short stature. It was easier to be taken seriously when no one could tell how short or tall you are. The new man gave Mr. Cobblepot a charming smile as he looked around the lobby, taking it in. He could hear the lobby doors open again, not too far behind himself, an older man walking in and leaving more luggage beside him. Bruce looked at him, for a moment before his eyes made their way back down to the landlord.

“I’m actually looking to lease an apartment for a while. My house is going under renovations and I was encouraged by a friend to take a break and move away while all the chaos happens. I do believe I called, hmmm,” the man hummed to himself, looking to the ceiling now as he attempted recall when he had made the call, “I think Monday or Tuesday, asking about an apartment. My name is Bruce Wayne.”

Upon hearing his name, the small man grew flustered and immediately began fishing about his desk for the paperwork he would need to give to the illustrious Bruce Wayne to begin his lease. How could he forget about the city’s richest man and most eligible bachelor asking to stay at his apartments? It was almost shameful and made Oswald feel deeply embarrassed to the point he almost struggled to not trip over his words. This was big money, and good business for him. He really needed to hire an assistant or at the very least get a calendar to make sure this doesn’t happen again.

“Oh yes! Mr. Wayne, the billionaire! I didn’t recognize you, you look very different than you do on television. I have a pre-furnished room prepared for you on the top floor, our best unit, which is saved for the very best,” he chortled a bit to himself as he slid a clipboard and a ball-point pen over to Bruce, containing all the paperwork he would need to get the lease. “I also need a credit-report, and a check-stub or payment of some sorts.”

Bruce took the clipboard and pen, nodding as he kneeled on the ground to open a suitcase to withdraw the prerequisites required for the lease. He handed them over along with his ID, looking over the clipboard. “I’ll be able to move in today, correct? And this is a month-to-month, lease, right? I don’t know when the renovations will be finished, but the contractors told me it would be at least three months.” Bruce then moved the suitcases he had to the side to clear the black rug and moved to sit down on a cheap loveseat near the desk so that he could begin filling out the information needed while Mr. Cobblepot made copies of the papers he gave him.

So far Bruce liked the place. It was simple and clean, and a breather from the mansion. He’d have to let Alfred know that he was right about downgrading to just a plain apartment instead of staying at some large hotel or going on vacation. This was a real vacation to Bruce. He hasn’t stayed in somewhere like this since he stayed in a hostel in Prague, but this was much more clean and enjoyable, so far. The man at the desk, the landlord, made Bruce a bit anxious. He was being given the whole, ‘holy shit you’re Bruce Wayne and you’re super-hot and rich’ treatment, and it was making him a bit antsy as it always did. Hopefully it would die off in a few days and the man would just treat him like any of the other tenants who lived here.

“Oh, yes, yes you can move in today. I had it cleaned the day after you called, so it might be a little dusty, but it’s otherwise spotless, and yes, the papers you’re holding right now are for a month-to-month lease. You would just have to fill out a lease again when you pay rent every month, which is by the way always on the fifth. Also, you do have your first months’ rent, do you?” Mr. Cobblepot raised an eyebrow and put the original copies of Bruce’s documents on the opposite side of the desk from him, looking over to him. He knew that Bruce Wayne was loaded, but he still didn’t trust him enough to not believe he would try and screw him over. It’s happened before and Oswald knew that someday it would happen again. He watched Bruce stand up and walk over to his desk, taking the clipboard from him. He flipped through the pages to make sure everything was filled out before he sat it down to revert his attention back on his new tenant.

“Oh yeah, I do, here,” Bruce handed Oswald the cashier’s check he had gotten, filled out with the full price of the lease and the month’s rent. He had gotten it on the way to the apartment complex, so it wasn’t wrinkled and the ink was almost still fresh. Mr. Cobblepot clipped it and the copies of Bruce’s information onto the clipboard with the rest of his information before he opened a drawer to pull out two keys with the number ‘25’ engraved in the metal. He kept one and handed Bruce the other, not bothering to stand up and walk him up to his apartment. Oswald booted up his computer before pointing to a pair of elevator doors.

“Go to those elevators and press floor five. It will take you to the top floor and your door should be the last at the end of the hallway. If you find anything wrong with your apartment, let me know. My phone number is left in a small booklet, along with other information in your living room. I hope you enjoy it here.” The man flashed Bruce another smile before he started to file Bruce’s paperwork, dismissing him for now. He was much too excited to put the check into the apartment complex’s bank account.

A part of Bruce found the lack of escort was a bit odd, but he pushed it off and thanked him before he walked over to the side and called Alfred to have him come in and help him bring Bruce’s bags up to his current lodgings. Once Alfred walked back through the doors, Bruce picked up the larger bags and put a backpack on his back before they made their way to the elevator. He pushed the up button and waited for the elevator to arrive. It took a minute, but the doors opened and revealed the inside, which contained a skinny man who wore a dark, nearly black, purple suit. Bruce’s eyes widened and he looked him over before he noticed his eyes. A striking green. He was given a wide, albeit mischievous smile before the man walked past him and out of the building. Alfred nudged Bruce inside and hit the top button, sending them up. Bruce couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes.

“So, Master Bruce, after you’re settled in your new abode, do you want me to return to the manor or do you have something else in mind?” Alfred asked, placing the bags he held on the ground. Alfred could still do a lot, but he was still aging and couldn’t do as much as he could when Bruce was younger. If it were up to Bruce, he would have Alfred retire, but he always refused. Bruce let go one of the bags he held and rubbed at his face for a moment as he realigned his train of thought.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I want you to go on vacation for a while. Go see your family. The contractor knows what he’s doing, and I have a cleaning crew there to make sure everything goes back to normal and isn’t a giant mess when we get back.” Bruce looked over at his old caretaker, giving him a gentle smile before the elevator dinged and opened its doors. The couple picked up the backs and walked out one after the other, looking around.

The hallway was similar to the lobby- clean and lined with cheap paintings of flowers and fruit. The carpet was the same shade and consistency as the rug Bruce walked on before, but instead of leading him to the landlord’s desk, it led him straight to his apartment door. Bruce looked up at the number, which was drilled into his door right above the peep hole before he pulled the key he was given and unlocked the deadbolt. He turned the door-handle and pushed it open, carrying everything in and placing it onto the floor.

Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t joking when he said that the apartment was furnished, but he never did specify to what degree. On the far side from the door was a line of windows, brightening the empty space, casting a spotlight on the one garage sale couch placed in the living room and the particle board side table next to it. The kitchen was small, but contained an island in the middle of it. It thankfully had a nice fridge, oven/stove, and the works, but it didn’t have much counter space at all. It was smaller than what Bruce was used to, but he could definitely live here for a few months. It was a good change of pace. Too bad he would have to go out and buy more furniture and other homely things just to make it comfortable.

Alfred chuckled at the cheap apartment before picking up the bags he carried in and walked them to the master bedroom, which contained a large queen-sized bed, a dresser, and was attached to a restroom. Bruce looked around once more before he picked up the bags again and followed suit, walking in on Alfred already unpacking him and putting his clothes away.

“It’s certainly different from what you’re used to living in, but it’ll be a good reality check for you. Even billionaires need to learn how to live on their own from time to time,” Alfred taunted him, unfolding and refolding Bruce’s clothes before putting them away in the dresser drawers. “Are you sure you want me to leave? I can stick around and help you get more furnishings and help you make this place a bit more comfortable.” Bruce sat down on the bed, shaking his head.

“Like you said, Alfred, billionaires need to learn how to live on their own from time to time.” Bruce gave him a smile before pulling more things out of his bags. He needed to start making a list of things he needed for the place, like for example hangers for him to hang his shirts and suits up. After helping Alfred in silence, he eventually found a pad of paper and a pen and decided to shoo him out so he could get things in order himself. He gave Alfred a credit card, the one he often gave him for travel, and walked him to the door. “I’ll be fine, Alfred, I’ve been alone in the manor many times before, I think I can unpack and get an apartment in order by myself. Go have fun and travel or something, just give me a call from time to time.” He gave a smile and Alfred said goodbye and gave Bruce a pat on the shoulder before turning around and returning to the elevator, going down.

Bruce was now left alone in his, to his standards, shitty apartment.

Before Bruce could shut his door, the elevator dinged and the man he had saw before, the man with the striking green eyes and the wide smile, stepped out. This time he was holding a plastic bag, which miscellaneous things such as feathers and objects that seemed like they were cheap children’s toys stuck out of the top. The man walked to the door to Bruce’s right, number twenty-three, and gave Bruce another wide smile as he put his hand on the doorknob. This time he spoke.

“So, you’re the new guy who has the Penguin’s feathers all rustled, huh?” He asked, his hand falling from the doorknob so he could give Bruce his full attention. He turned his body instead and leaned against his door, facing Bruce. Bruce opened his door more and stepped out into the hall, giving the green-eyed man an odd, but confused look. The man only laughed and waved one hand at Bruce while the other came up to almost hide the wider smile. “I’m referring to the landlord, Mr. Cobblepot. He looks like a penguin when he waddles around in that cute little suit of his. I’m Jack, by the way. Jack Napier.” He stuck his hand out for Bruce to shake.

Bruce at the moment was taken aback by the man. He was so odd, yet so interesting. If Bruce had to guess, he had to be some sort of performer. He gave the man a small laugh when he cleared up his joke, and then looked at his hand when it was held out to him, immediately reaching out to reciprocate the handshake- but to Bruce’s dismay it was a trick and his hand was surprised with a small shock and laughter rang through the hallway again. Bruce raised an eyebrow and kept a friendly smile on his face, whipping his hand on his shirt to get the tingling to go away.

“Well, Jack, it’s nice to meet you and your…tricks. I’m Bruce Wayne. I’m only staying here until my house is finished being renovated, but I can already tell that it’s going to be interesting having you as my neighbor.” Jack continued to laugh, but by now the laugh had subsided in to a low chuckle and he had turned to his door to unlock it. He looked towards Bruce again, continuing to smile at him.

“Oh no need to tell me who you are, I know your face from the magazines Mr. “Most Eligible Bachelor in Gotham City” a million years in a row,” Jack said, stepping into his dark apartment, almost disappearing inside before popping his head out once more. “I’ll see you sometime later, my new neighborino. I hope that the Penguin’s penny-pinching proved for a comfortable apartment! Byeee!” And with that, the door slammed behind Jack, echoing through the empty hallway.

Bruce stood in the hallway for a moment, long enough that a train began to roll by, causing the lights to flicker and pull Bruce from his jumbled thoughts. He shook his head and slipped back into his apartment, Jack’s words ringing through his mind. He looked at his hand that was shocked, noticing a small red dot had formed in the center of it. He closed his palm and sighed, rubbing his face, knowing that his neighbor was going to be indeed a handful. He walked back into his bedroom and picked up the pad of paper and the pen, walking around as he created a list of things that he would have to go out and buy for the apartment.

Stuff needed:

-Hangers

-Plates

-Silverware

-Bed stuff (pillows/bed set)

-Curtains

-TV

-Cups

-Food

Once he was finished, he sat down on the cheap couch, finding it deeply uncomfortable. He looked at the list for a moment before scribbling down one more thing:

-comfy couch


	2. Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Jack get to know each other better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, this is a re-write of the second chapter that I posted for like, twenty minutes and then deleted. I deleted the other one because I wrote it without any sort of sleep and posted it without thinking or going over it.  
> So I deleted like half of it and changed it. 
> 
> Here's the ~true~ chapter 2.
> 
> The fanfic is based on this post:https://batjokes-hell.tumblr.com/post/159639846726/batjokes-writing-i
> 
> Give them a follow and reblog some of their stuff if you haven't already, and you can find me on Tumblr at jokersby.tumblr.com.
> 
> Comments/kudos' are very much appreciated!

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Bruce sat up with a jolt, pad of paper clattering off of himself and onto the ground loudly. Looking around, he rubbed his face before he put his hand on his neck, groaning. He had fallen asleep on the shitty couch, and now he was paying for it dearly. He slowly stood up, stretching and twisting his back to pop it and make it feel vaguely better. It didn’t work much, but it was enough to get him into his bedroom for the night.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunkthunkthunk.

Bruce blinked a couple of times before he looked around the apartment, only to find that a figure was standing at one of the nearby windows. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest before the figure leaned back some into the moonlight to wave at him, revealing that it was his neighbor, Jack, sitting on the fire escape. Bruce could see the wide smile spread across his face before he pointed at the lock on the window, wanting Bruce to open it. He tapped on the glass again, for no reason other than to try to get Bruce to hurry up.

Thunk thunk thunk.

He stood there for a moment before he walked over and messed with the sticky lock before forcing the window open. He then opened the screen to be face to face with his new neighbor..

“Well good evening, Sleeping Beauty! I couldn’t help but see you were asleep on that rock of a couch, and I thought I’d be your Prince Charming to swoop in and save you,” Jack greeted him, not moving or showing any sign that he understood personal space. He eventually pulled back and moved aside to sit down against the wall. “Come outside and sit with me,” Jack said, his tone softer and more inviting.

Bruce squinted at the streetlights and then at the moon before his eyes went back to Jack to look the man over.. He noticed he was wearing pajamas; a graphic t-shirt that was way too big for his skinny frame, and a pair of fluffy pajama pants with cartoonish dogs printed on it. Jack’s hair was messed up, like he had laid down and tried to sleep, but couldn’t It was a complete polar opposite from what Bruce had seem him wear earlier that day. Bruce slipped out onto the fire escape despite his own exhaustion and sat down next to him, looking up at the crescent moon. 

“Oh, well, thanks, I guess,” Bruce said awkwardly, only looking over at Jack when he heard the sound of a lighter. He watched Jack light a cigarette and the blow the smoke out before he looked down at the street, watching a cat walk into a nearby alley-way and disappear. He didn’t pin Jack as a smoker. He was still groggy from his sleep, and didn’t really want to speak, but even without Bruce speaking, Jack decided he was going to converse with him anyways.

“You know what? I think you’re really funny, Bruce. You’re a big macho billionaire, who decided like in a sitcom or something, to live in some normal apartment complex while your mansion gets all fixed up and you spend a lot a money,” he paused to take a drag of the cigarette, looking over at Bruce as he continued to speak, smoke flowing out of his smiling lips. Jack leaned closed and rested his arm up on Bruce’s shoulder, leaning close as he continued to speak. “You even have a wacky neighbor, and a weird landlord. Somebody call the network executives, Brucie, we really have a hit here,” he laughed and pat the half-asleep man’s chest, drawing a small chuckle from him. Bruce looked at him with a small smile on his lips for a moment, their eyes meeting momentarily before Bruce looked away. They watched a helicopter fly ahead before Bruce spoke this time.

“Speaking of whacky neighbor, what do you do for work?” Bruce asked, genuinely curious. The Cobblepot Heights weren’t exactly the lowest end apartments, so the rent was still up there in price per month. It was nothing a part time job could afford. A part of him wanted to say something about the whole sitcom comment of Jack’s, wanting to say that sitcoms don’t ever work out or in general suck, but he was too tired to get into a debate with anyone. If Jack hadn’t have pulled him out onto the fire escape, he would be laying on his bare lumpy bed, snoozing clear until tomorrow. 

“I’m an entertainer, of course, can’t you tell? Oh, and I own a joke shop.” He held his cigarette in his mouth before he put hands up, making a picture frame with his fingers in the air as he imagined seeing his shop through them. “It’s put in the perfect little shop, making just enough business to get buy. I know it’s not a super big industry anymore, but it’s fun and I make a killing during Halloween time.” He took his cigarette out of his mouth after taking a long drag, letting the smoke to come out of his nostrils this time. The entire time Jack spoke, Bruce watched his hands. He noticed how Jack seemed to speak with his hands, giving everything he said some flair. Bruce let out a yawn and rubbed at his face before replying.

“When I first saw you get off of the elevator, I guessed that you were some sort of entertainer. No one could go to an office job in a purple suit. Everyone wears dark blue and black and has to be extremely formal.” Bruce stretched and watched another cat slip into the same nearby alley-way. He blinked a couple of times, chalking it up to de-ja vu. 

“My, my, you have a good eye, don’t you? Usually people think my suit is dark blue or some off-black, but you,” he poked a finger at Bruce’s shoulder,” you can see right through me, can’t you?” Jack shifted the way he was sitting, moving to lay his head on Bruce’s shoulder, attempting to try and see the stars past the light pollution. Jack had absolutely no concept of personal space at all, and did whatever he wanted to do. Pushing into Bruce’s air-tight personal bubble was a way for Jack to wiggle himself permanently into the man’s life. Jack sucked down on the last of the cigarette and flicked it onto the street far below them. Silence settled between them almost comfortably before Jack moved away towards his window, sticking a long leg into it. “Well, Brucie, it’s been a fun night with you, but I’m sure pooped from today, and I know you most definitely are.” He gave him a wide smile, their eyes meeting once more, but Bruce wasn’t the one to pull away. Jack slipped into his apartment and stuck his head back out one last time. “See ya around, cowboy.” He tipped an imaginary hat and then disappeared into his apartment, leaving Bruce alone on the fire escape. 

Bruce sat there for a bit longer before he also slipped back into his apartment, shutting the window and finding that when he opened the sticky lock, it had broke and wouldn’t lock again. He mumbled a line of select curse words and just let it be, shuffling to his bedroom and pulling off his jeans so he could sleep in just his t-shirt and boxer-briefs. As soon as he laid down on the barren bed, Bruce was swept into a deep sleep.

 

Bruce found himself in a familiar place, wearing a heavy suit of some sorts. He was inside of a run down and decrepit building, wandering around and looking for something he didn’t quite know what it was. He looked at the broken pillars that stood in the bottom floor of the lobby, his heart was pounding hard against his chest. He felt as if a clock was ticking down against him and he was quickly running out of time. The suit felt much heavier on him and it was beginning to get harder to breathe. 

He soon found an elevator, but it of course didn’t work. There was no electricity. After opening some doors, he found stairs. Water trickled down the steps one at a time, coming from an unknown source at the top. He hesitated but forced himself to venture up wet concrete steps, soon arriving at a door at the top. He slowly turned the doorknob and opened the door.

He stepped into a hallway, pausing before he noticed that he was standing in his apartment hallway, exactly as he last saw it, other than the pictures of clowns and playing cards that littered the walls. The whole ambiance of the hallway scared him, but what stood at the end of the hallway was what terrified him the most.

At the end of the hallway was a man who looked exactly like Jack, except he was wearing a bright purple suit, had bright green hair, and wore messy clown makeup. He looked much more beat up and sickly compared to the Jack he knew, but he had the same piercing green eyes. Jack’s laugh echoed through his ears before he felt the hallway closing in on him, suffocating Bruce. He put his hands on either side of the wall, trying to push it away, but it didn’t work. Nothing work. Before he knew it, the scary clown Jack’s face was right up in his, smiling and laughing loudly. 

The countdown hit zero.

 

Bruce jolted up in a sweat with his phone alarm, breathing hard and grasping his chest. He coughed and gagged for air for a moment before he eventually calmed himself down enough to stumble into his bathroom and flush his face with cold water. He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed scratch marks on his chest, most likely from him struggling in his sleep. He sighed and stood there for a moment, regaining composure before he took off his clothes and slipped into an ice-cold shower, cleaning off all the grime and bad feelings he felt at the moment. He stepped out and walked into his bedroom and got changed into a different pair of jeans than the ones he had worn the day before, and he slipped on a random shirt, not caring really what he wore.

Bruce was used to the nightmares, but he was sure he had them under control. They were the only lasting symptoms of the trauma of his parents dying. The only difference was that the nightmares were usually of that night. This was entirely different. He hoped it meant nothing. It took Bruce a few minutes, but he finally convinced himself that the nightmare was caused by his lack of sleep while hanging out with Jack the night before and pressure of being in a new place. Bruce looked at himself in the mirror to fix and dry his hair, feeling much better. No one needed to know about the nightmare.

He left his room and retrieved the notepad off of the ground, ripping the list off of it before he folded it and slipped it into his pocket along with his phone and his wallet. Despite not wanting to go out, he was going to force himself in order to actually get things done. He made sure all the lights were out before opening his door, immediately noticing a note taped to his door. He blinked and pulled it off before opening it and reading it.

“Dear Mr. Wayne,  
Thank you for choosing our establishment to stay in until the renovations on your manor are complete. We pride ourselves on a clean and welcoming environment; feel free to visit my apartment at any time if you have any problems.  
Rent is due on every fifth of the month, and should be paid upfront with cash.  
Please don’t forget we must renew your lease every month you decide to stay with us.

Thank you,  
Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot”

After reading the note, he sighed and slipped the note into his pocket, locking his door after. He would have to give Mr. Cobblepot a gift eventually, but Bruce decided that it could wait. He turned and stared down his hallway, flashbacks of the nightmare flicking through his mind. For only a moment he was frozen, but he forced himself to start walking forward and towards the elevator, smacking the down button. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears and he clenched his hands to steady them. Luckily, when the elevator arrived on his floor, it was empty and he was able to slip into it and ride down without running into anybody. Bruce quickly exited the building before Mr. Cobblepot, who was sitting at his desk, could even notice.

 

Bruce was only away for a few hours, but it was getting dark outside, buying what he needed along with a few other things, such as alcohol and a rented movie, but he had enough to stock up his kitchen with a small amount of food and he had bought himself a bed set and pillows. He carried it all to the elevator by himself, barely struggling with it all. He sat it down in the elevator with a sigh, not wanting to carry it for the entire duration of the ride. The doors were about to close, but a long arm slipped through the space, causing them to stop and open.

In through the doors slipped none other than Jack Napier, who today was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, purple suspenders that held up his tight-fitting pants, and a tie that had multicolored balloons printed onto it. After further inspection, Bruce saw a balloon often used for creating balloon animals hung out of his pocket. Jack had a smile resting on his face, rocking from his toes to his heels. Jack was quiet until he noticed all the stuff Bruce had on the floor of the elevator, his eyes nearly glowing with interest. 

“Ooo, what do you got here, rich boy?” Jack asked, bending down and beginning to go through the bags before Bruce could even answer. Bruce frowned and reached down to pick up some of the bags as they neared their destination, but he failed to grab the bag that contained the alcohol before Jack grabbed the bag and held it for him. “Here, I’ll carry this one for you. It has precious cargo in it.” Bruce was given a smile that was nearly the same as the smile he was given the first time they saw each other.

“Jack, ugh, no, you don’t have to, I got it. I carried it all onto the elevator, I can carry it into my apartment.” They arrived on the top floor, which is when Jack stuck a leg out to hold the elevator doors, open, but his free hand slipped into Bruce’s pocket, fishing out his keys. There was no way he was going to let Bruce open the door with his hands full like they were, and Jack just absolutely adored Bruce’s reaction. When the hand slipped into his pocket, Bruce froze and tensed up, taking a step back but Jack pulled out the keys anyways. “Jack, god damn it.” Bruce was frowning, but he didn’t do anything to take the keys back right away. He might as well let Jack open the door for him. 

Jack slipped out of the elevator, humming a popular tune as he walked down the hall, Bruce trailing closely behind him. He watched the man open his door for him and step in before Bruce did. A sigh slipped from Bruce’s lips and he sat the bags he was holding down on the ground before he took the ones that contained food into the kitchen. At first, he ignored Jack, but the moment he looked at him, Jack had already opened Bruce’s bottle of alcohol and was taking a drink of it, straight out of the bottle. Jack paused when he noticed Bruce looking at him, pulling the bottle from his lips with a laugh, screwing the lid back on.

“What? I’ve always wanted to try rich-people alcohol. I’ve seen this stuff at the store, it’s stupid expensive, and it’s like 90-proof.” He moved into the kitchen and sat the bottle before leaning against the counter, watching Bruce roll his eyes and continue to finish putting things up. Bruce put the empty bags all into one bag and then tossed them into a cabinet before he looked at Jack, who was nearly grinning at him. There was a beat of silence before Jack spoke again. “If you’re planning on drinking this tasty stuff soon,” Jack picked the bottle back up and looked at it, reading the label, “you should totally invite me over.” He looked from the bottle to Bruce, a large smile appearing on his lips. “I would love to see a drunk Bruce Wayne.” 

“No, I got it just relax and help me sleep, not to party and get wasted,” Bruce said, walking over to Jack, taking the bottle from his hands to place it in the freezer so the drink would be cold when he decided to go to bed. Jack frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting.

“Oh, come on Brucie, let’s christen this apartment of yours with a little bit of celebrating. We could toast to your decision to join the normal people of Gotham City instead of living in the lap of luxury of some ritzy hotel.” Jack uncrossed his arms before slipping up to sit on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like a child. Bruce turned to look at Jack again, weighing his options in his thoughts.

On one hand, he could send Jack away and spend the night alone, and on the other hand, he could have Jack stay and drink with him. Bruce assumed that Jack was a party drunk, and that his goofy behavior would only get worse. Bruce sighed once again and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he was going to regret this later, but he remembered what Alfred had told him when they planned for him to stay at the apartment. A voice rang through his head saying:

“Make friends, Master Bruce. You can’t just hide at home forever. This is a chance to meet people who aren’t bitter and rich.”  
Bruce looked at Jack, chewing on the inside of his lip before he made a decision.

“Fine, Jack. We can hang out and drink. Just…don’t break anything, or do anything really stupid, okay?” Jack threw his arms up and kicked his legs out in victory, smiling widely.

“Woohoo! I’d knew you’d come around sometime, Brucie.” Jack slipped off the counter easily and peeked into the living room for a moment, continuing to speak. “I would say that we could rent a shitty movie, but it doesn’t seem like you have a TV…, or even a nice couch to sit on.” He tapped his chin, thinking for a moment before he was hit with what he thought was a great idea. Moving quickly with excitement, Jack went to Bruce’s freezer, grabbing the bottle, and then gave it to Bruce before he grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards Bruce’s apartment door. “We’ll drink at my place. I actually have a couch and a TV, and more alcohol. It’ll be a lot more fun there, anyways,” he said, pulling open the door. He moved behind Bruce and put his hands on his back, walking with him out into the hallway. He shut Bruce’s door, pulled Bruce’s keys that he never returned minutes before out of his pocket, and locked the door. Jack brushed past Bruce, handing him back his keys, and then pulled out his own keys to unlock his door. Bruce stuffed his keys back into his pocket before he spoke.

“I don’t want to get too drunk tonight, Jack. I don’t want to pass out here or anything.” The door opened and Bruce tried to look inside, but it was much too dark. Bruce assumed he had thick curtains because the sun was still up. It was only sometime after six in the evening. Jack grabbed Bruce’s arm and tugged him in, shutting the door to plunge them into darkness.

When the lights were flicked on, Bruce didn’t know if he had expected the inside of Jack’s apartment to look like it did or not. There walls were painted different purples, each one a different shade, and there were sporadic splashes of other colors- namely the color green. There were three art easels standing near the wall with the most color on it, and there were art supplies around them. In Jack’s living room sat purposely mismatched furniture and an entertainment center that held a TV and other knick-knacks. There were magic trick props piled up on the armchair, and different blankets laid on the couch. Bruce couldn’t stop looking at things as Jack pulled him further into the house, talking about it all.

“I apologize if it’s messy in here, to your standards, but this is my best element, my creative chaos. He hummed a song, walking into the kitchen to peer into his freezer to look at what alcohol he had in stock, leaving Bruce in the living room alone. “We should order pizzas or something and eat before we drink so we don’t get sick later. I’ll call, but you’re buying. You are a billionaire, after all.” Jack shut the freezer door and peeked out at Bruce, only to giggle at him. “You look tense, Brucie,” he said, walking back out to join him, sitting on the arm of the couch. “Sit down, you look like you’ve never hung out with anyone before. You have galas all the time, this shouldn’t be hard.”

Bruce was nervous. He was overwhelmed with the atmosphere of the apartment, the colors reminded him of his nightmare. 

“That’s fine, and I’m fine. I’m just taking it all in. There’s a lot to see here compared to my place.” Bruce sat the bottle down on the coffee table in the living room, looking at Jack when he sat down. He then sat down on the couch cushion furthest away from Jack. “And it’s different being at a gala and then hanging out one on one with someone. This is a lot more…personal.” Jack slipped off of the arm of the couch and onto the cushion next to Bruce, looking at him. A laugh came from him before he grabbed the bottle and handed it back to Bruce.

“Jesus, the tabloids were right about you isolating yourself. You have the social skills of a bat caught inside a human house. Drink and loosen up, Brucie-Boy. I’m not going to hurt you or anything,” he leaned close to Bruce’s face, which Bruce leaned back in response, Jack smiling like always.“…unless you ask me to.” He winked and laughed, pulling away and standing up to walk into the kitchen to call the local pizza place to place their order, leaving Bruce alone once again. 

Bruce watched him walk away, realization hitting him hard that his new friend wasn’t particularly….straight. He looked at the bottle before he quickly opened it and took a large drink. It was going to be a long night for Bruce.


	3. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce looked into the small mirror and didn’t really know what to expect to see, but when he really looked at himself, he didn’t know what to think either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanfic is based on this post:https://batjokes-hell.tumblr.com/post/159639846726/batjokes-writing-i
> 
> Give them a follow and reblog some of their stuff if you haven't already, and you can find me on Tumblr at jokersby.tumblr.com.
> 
> Comments/kudos' are very much appreciated!

The sounds of birds chirping rang through the room as the sunlight moved to rest right on the other side of Bruce Wayne’s tired and swollen eyelids, waking him up. He stirred for a moment, using his hand to block the sunlight while he moved to turn over, only to realize he was on a couch. His shitty couch. Bruce’s head ached and his back was stiff as he instead slowly moved to sit up, running his hand through his hair. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten back to his apartment last night, but he couldn’t remember much anyways. He squinted at the harsh light and looked around the living room, seeing that the window that overlooked the fire escape was open. He assumed that Jack had possibly came in or that he had gotten into his own apartment that way. Unsure, he stood up and shut it, silencing the chirping that egged on his headache.

Bruce moved to walk into his bathroom, only to be shocked at the reflection in front of him. He was wearing exaggerated makeup that could be compared to any drag queen; he had warm shimmery eyeshadow and black eyeliner smudged around his eyes, and red lipstick smeared around his mouth. Anxiety shook his body and accelerated his heart rate as his eyes grew wide.  
Everything came at him all at once.

 

Laughing, Jack turned on some music that Bruce recognized from when he was younger. It ended up being a mix of 80s and 90s pop music, with the occasional 50s swing song, that often had them laughing and singing along to them as they reminisced about their teenage years and the sort of trouble they both got into and what the songs reminded them of. It only crossed Bruce’s mind for a moment, but he had noticed that the both of them refused to talk about their childhood to each other and tended to only talk about what they did in high school and the sort of people they knew. The thought was quickly pushed away as Jack fed Bruce more and more alcohol, loosening his tight-ass personality up. 

Eventually Jack had Bruce talking more about himself and his personal life.

“My butler-“

“You have a butler? Holy shit, I knew you were rich, but I didn’t know you were that rich,” Jack laughed loudly, leaning against Bruce and resting his chin on his shoulder while looking at him. Bruce could feel his hot breath against his neck before he laughed at the other’s surprise. He turned his head to look at Jack, a small alarm going off in the back of his mind as he realized that the smile Jack was giving him was reminiscent of the one he saw of the clown Jack in his dream, but Jack’s smile at the moment was lacking the malice. It was more, endearing.

“Yeah, I have a butler. He practically raised me. Anyways, he was in the military, so like, I had a friend over when I was a teenager…,” Bruce trailed off, his speaking pattern growing worse and almost incoherent as he drank more. He paused his sentence to reach forward to grab the bottle of booze they were sharing off of the coffee table and took a swig of it. He flinched at the bite only for a moment before he looked at Jack once again, his cheeks flushed and his expression soft. Typically, Bruce was a tight-ass, so of course Jack absolutely loved this loosey-goosey version of Bruce. After a moment, Bruce blinked a couple of times before he turned his head away with a laugh and a sloppy grin spreading across his cheeks.

“Well fuck, I forgot where I was gonna go with that story,” he said, his shoulders bouncing as he fended off his laughter. But, Jack was quick to laugh loudly at the other’s confusion, leaning onto him more and drawing the suppressed laughter out of Bruce. They laughed for a few moments before silence settled back over the eccentric’s apartment. Jack then sprung off of the couch with the grace of someone who wasn’t slap-happy drunk, and started rummaging through a nearby bag and a box, giggling and muttering all the while.

“What’re you doin’?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow and moving to stand up, but Jack waved a hand back at him.

“Sit down, sit down, hold on, Brucie,” he said before he disappeared into what Bruce assumed was his bedroom. Jack was only gone for a split second, returning with a case that was clasped shut. He lithe man plopped back down onto the couch next to Bruce, placing the case on the coffee table. Bruce took another drink from their bottle as Jack revealed his intentions with the mysterious box in front of them. Jack unclasped the box.

“I’m going to do your makeup,” he said matter-of-factly, pulling out a container of face cleaning pads and turning to Bruce, who was in a momentary state of shock.

“My makeup? Ja-Jack, I don’t wear makeup,” Bruce said defensively, shaking his head and setting the bottle aside. He had never worn makeup in his life. Not for any sort of local news segment, not for any of his photo shoots for the magazines, not for anything. He didn’t want to. It gave him a weird feeling. Especially when it was super flashy, or clown makeup. Clowns by themselves already gave him cold chills. He didn’t even like it when his dates wore a lot of flashy makeup, but he never told them that. He just let them do whatever made them happy.

Jack leaned forward, one hand reaching out for Bruce’s face with a cleaning pad between his fingers, and his other hand going down to grab his knee to keep his balance. Bruce, due to being intoxicated, didn’t get to react before he felt the warmth of the other’s hand on his knee and the cool wetness of the pad against his cheek, which was growing warmer by the second. While Jack wiped Bruce’s face clean, Bruce watched his face as he focused on being gentle with Bruce.

While slowly wiping across Bruce’s forehead, Jack’s eyebrows twitched slightly before he stuck his tongue out slightly to chew on it. Jack soon finished and his impossibly green eyes momentarily met Bruce’s blue eyes, drawing a laugh out of him before he pulled away to dig through the train case.

“I would put foundation on you,” Jack said, one of his hands going up to push his dark hair out of his eyes while the other pulled out a small bottle. “But your skin is so much darker than mine; I’m practically a ghost compared to you.” He let out a laugh, reaching out and taking Bruce’s arm and dabbed some of the foundation on his forearm to make a point. It left a pale streak where he tried to blend it in with is finger. “So,” he continued, licking his lips as he dug through his bag more, “I’m just gonna skip that part and get to the meat of the makeup.” He pulled out a tube of lipstick. 

Bruce quickly took a big drink of their alcohol, hoping that Jack wouldn’t take any pictures. The last thing he needed was for this to haunt him. But, as soon as the red lipstick touched his lips, that all left his mind and he was suddenly was filled with the bare naked intimate feeling of being drunk and touched so gently by another person.

While Bruce was dealing drunkenly with his internal conflicts, Jack was just humming to himself, admiring the curves of Bruce’s mouth and wondering what it would be like to kiss Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor. He had seen the stories and all the women Bruce accompanied to parties, but the more he hung around Bruce, he was realizing that that wasn’t really what he was like at all. He was more nervous and uptight about things. As Jack slowly moved the lipstick up over each peak of Bruce’s upper lip he moved his hand up to hold his jaw, feeling light stubble and the sensation of Bruce nervously swallowing. He finished up with a soft laugh and patted his cheek before moving away to dig through the case once again. 

“You haven’t worn makeup before, have you? I’m guessing you’re gonna be twitchy as hell when it comes to the next step. Good thing my hand isn’t as steady as it usually is.” Jack gave Bruce a wide smile as he stopped digging through the case to grab the bottle that Bruce had been drinking a lot of and took a couple of good drinks. He put the bottle down and put his hand on his chest while licking his lips, waiting for the burn to subside before grabbing a color palette of warm colors. He flicked open the lid and picked up the small applicator, dabbing it into the red square and peeking at his guest.

“No…, I haven’t worn makeup before. I just, didn’t really want to. I mean, it’s okay that you’re doing it, I guess, but like, I don’t know,” Bruce said nervously, shifting and rubbing the back of his neck. The lipstick felt thick and heavy on his lips as he missed Jack’s eyes and instead eyed the bottle of liquor instead. His head was already spinning, but he wanted to drink more. His attention was snapped back to Jack when he felt his hand gently grab his jaw again, directing his head toward him again. Bruce watched Jack lick his lips again before shutting his eyes and allowing him to get close and rub the powder on his eyelids. For a moment, he swore he could feel Jack’s breath ghost over his face, but he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t long before Jack released Bruce again and pulled back, admiring his work so far.

“You can open your eyes now, and god, those colors just make the blue pop right out of your eyeballs, jeez,” Jack said, grinning and reaching into the bag to pull out a small compact mirror. “I’m not done quite yet, but look.” He opened it and held it out to Bruce, who took it carefully.

Bruce looked into the small mirror and didn’t really know what to expect to see, but when he really looked at himself, he didn’t know what to think either. He first looked at the lipstick, which turned out slightly darker than he imagined it would. Looking at his eyes, he found that Jack was right, the colors really did make his eyes pop. In the corners of his eyes was a bright red, which faded to an orange, and then went up into a yellow. He blinked at himself for a moment before closing the compact mirror and returning it to Jack.

“You’re really good at makeup, Jack,” Bruce said softly, scratching at his cheek for a moment, feeling the stubble that had grown throughout the day. He shifted his legs, finding that they felt heavy from being drunk. Jack gave him a gentle smile and took the mirror, dropping it into the case and pulling out what looked like a marker to Bruce.

“Well thank you, sir,” Jack said almost mischievously, moving closer to him. “I tried beauty school for a small bit, but I didn’t really get along with the girls in my class. They didn’t like that I was better than them.” Jack put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder before his hand snaked to the back of his neck and then slipped into the back of Bruce’s hair. Bruce’s mouth fell slightly agape as the touch of the other left tingles and warmth, blushing deeply and adverting his gaze while Jack moved closer and closer. Jack was nearly in his lap by the time he spoke again.

“Now I need you to stay as still as you possibly can and close your eyes. This part is the hardest part. I gotta try and do your eyeliner and then I’m done, I pinkie promise.” A giggle came from the makeup artist’s lips, finding Bruce’s reaction completely adorable and forgetting that they were both wasted and playing around with makeup. Bruce gave in and shut his eyes, his cheeks staying red. Jack let his hand that was on the back of his head play with his hair as he did move to sit on his lap, straddling him. He hummed some tune as, for the moment, he admired the man in front of him. Jack wouldn’t admit it, but he liked having Bruce like this. Calm and under his control, to some extent. He let his hand holding the marker trace over his cheek before he pulled it away to pull the cap off the marker with his teeth, spitting the lid somewhere towards the vicinity of the case. Jack stuck his tongue out a small bit once again, now moving as close as possible. The hand that was in Bruce’s hair slid all the way around to the side of his neck, allowing Jack to hold Bruce’s head still, and he leaned in closely as he began to shakily draw the eyeliner onto Bruce’s eyelids.

While allowing Jack to basically do whatever he wanted, he found himself gripping the couch they were sitting on, mouth dry and hoping that he didn’t smell bad or was obvious with his nervousness. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why he was so nervous. He didn’t know if it was because of the makeup, or because he was drunk with his neighbor, but he was unaware of his questionable sexuality creeping up in the back of his mind, causing him to become quite flustered. Jack, by all means, was an attractive man. He was tall, thin, and angular. He had a sharp nose and a jawline so sharp that it could put people in hospitals. His smile was contagious, but had enough influence that it could easily be deadly, but never seemed to take that route. He was always well-groomed and dressed nicely, other than the wacky ties he wore day to day. 

Bruce wanted more to drink. 

Jack soon finished Bruce’s eyeliner, the wings wobbly and crooked due to his own intoxication and his jittery hands shaking, but he didn’t pull away right away. Jack found himself just sort of looking over Bruce’s face. His hand slipped back to where it was earlier, resting on the nape of his neck. Bruce slowly opened his eyes, finding them locking with Jack’s, not moving a muscle. He watched Jack lick his lips again before Jack quickly moved forward, locking their lips in a swift move that immediately smeared the lipstick Bruce wore all over their mouths. At first, Bruce was so shocked that he just sat there, but he soon began to kiss him back, his body relaxing and his hands moving to rest on Jack’s waist.

Suddenly, Jack pulled back and stood up off the couch, his back turned to Bruce. Bruce looked at him confused and worried that he had done something wrong. He could see that Jack was shaking as he pulled his hand up to his mouth.

“Jack wha-“

“This is wrong. We’re drunk. You’re drunk,” Jack said, the words coming out soft but heavy. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, more so whispering to himself.

“Jack, no, it’s fine,” Bruce attempted to console him, standing up with a wobble and reaching out towards him. Jack stepped forward a bit, keeping his back to Bruce and keeping himself out of his reach. Jack took a deep breath and rubbed at his face before he looked at his hand. Bruce could see from where he was standing, he could see that it was smeared with the same greasy red color that Jack had put on his lips not long ago. He watched Jack clench his fist before dropping his hand to his side.

“Bruce… I think you should leave. I don’t think we’re in the right state of mind to do anything like that. I didn’t even ask you if you wanted to…ugh.” Jack sighed and used his hand that didn’t have lipstick on it to run it through his hair. “I doubt you want anyone to look at you like that, so I’ll help you through the fire escape if you want me to.” He turned his head to glance at Bruce, who had the lipstick speared around his mouth and up his cheeks a bit that resembled a smile. Jack could feel himself want to laugh but he looked away.

Bruce didn’t know what to say, but he sort of agreed with Jack. They were both drunk. They didn’t know what they were really doing. Hell, he didn’t even truly know if he really wanted to kiss Jack. But, he felt bad. Jack really wanted to kiss him, but the circumstances weren’t right. Bruce looked over at the window he knew led out to the fire escape, knowing it would be dangerous, but at the moment he didn’t really care. He didn’t want someone out in the hallway to see him wearing makeup and spill the beans to the press or take a picture of him. He scratched the back of his neck, the same place that Jack was holding only moments before. After a second of silence Bruce spoke.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate your help. I don’t really feel like being seen like this by anyone else, or falling to my death.” He picked up the bottle off of the table, feeling how much was left in it before setting it back down. He felt like Jack needed it more than him right now. He could see the other’s guilt and anxiety radiating off of him. Jack just gave him a nod and walked over the window, pushing it open.

The trip through the fire escape wasn’t exciting or anything of the sort, the two actually had sobered up a bit from the shock of the kiss and Bruce hardly needed any help getting through, but he managed to fall through his window and hit his apartment floor hard, nearly knocking over a nearby lamp on a small table. As he laid there for a moment, he heard Jack let out a heavy sigh before climbing in after him. Jack stood above him for a moment, looking at the makeup covered mess in front of him before leaning down and helping him up. Bruce was shocked at how strong Jack actually was, and welcomed the help. Once he was standing up, they found themselves staring at each other in the darkness. The only things that allowed them to see each other was the streetlights from the street below and the moon that rose above them.

“You look ridiculous,” Jack started saying as he moved to walk towards the front door, deciding he wasn’t going to go through the fire escape, “you smeared all my handiwork everywhere.” He was just about to walk past Bruce before Bruce reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him towards himself, attempting to kiss him, but his lips hit the pads of Jack’s fingers instead of his lips. “Bruce, please, don’t do this. Go lay down. I need to go sleep. I have a gig tomorrow.” Bruce slowly let go and stepped away, not looking at Jack as he allowed himself to walk out of the apartment.

Bruce was left alone, the only noises he heard being Jack in the neighboring apartment blasting some song that sounded like Frank Sinatra, but Bruce knew it wasn’t. Bruce sighed and laid down on the couch, falling asleep to the muffled sounds of the slow swing music.

 

Bruce stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, trying to make sense of what had happened between him and Jack. Was Jack okay? A soft beep from his phone pulled him from his deep in thought trance. He pulled out his phone and saw that it was a text from Alfred, checking up on him. He replied that he was fine and that he was going to check on the manor later that day. He sat his phone down on the bathroom counter and sighed, running his hand through his nappy hair. He needed to talk to Jack, but he didn’t know what he should say. All he knew is that he needed to get this makeup off of himself, especially the lipstick. Something about it unsettled him deeply.

Bruce stripped himself of yesterday’s clothes, tossing them to the floor and moving into the shower. He turned the heat on full blast and scrubbed himself of the nasty feeling of the greasy lipstick and being hungover. He stood there for a long time, resting his head against the tile wall. He wished that he had Jack’s number so he could text him to at least ask that he was okay. After the kiss, Jack seemed really upset and shook up.

After a few more minutes of thinking and washing himself, Bruce got out of the shower and went to his bedroom to get into some fresh clothes. After he pulled on his shirt, his eyes fell onto the pad of paper and pen he had used when he first moved in to list what he needed. He walked over to the cheap dresser it sat upon, looking at the list before he picked up the pad and ripped the list off and grabbed the pen. He moved to sit on his bed and began writing.

‘Hey,  
Here’s my number if you want to get a hold of me, or just want to talk. I’m going out for the day or I would just ask to hang out some.  
Bruce.’

Below the small bit he wrote, he listed his phone number. He ripped the paper out of the pad and folded it up, writing ‘Jack’ on the outside of it. He put on his shoes and grabbed his phone and car keys, slipping them into his pocket. He walked out of his room and then out of his apartment, locking the door behind himself. 

He found himself standing in front of Jack’s door, heart pounding in his ears. He should just knock and give him the note personally, but he was scared of what he would see. He didn’t know if Jack was upset at him or not, or if Jack was hungover and a mess. He swallowed hard and looked down at the note.  
Bruce knocked.

Instead of staying and waiting for Jack to answer like a normal person, he slipped the note under the door, Jack’s name facing up, and hurried down the hallway and down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator in the chance that Jack may open the door and wave him down.

Bruce left the apartment building and went to the nearby car garage to get into his car and began driving towards Wayne Manor, anticipating the notification or ringtone that contained Jack and what he had to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song mentioned towards the end is 'Put Your Head on My Shoulder' by Paul Anka. Bruce wouldn't know that of course lmao.  
> Also sorry for not posting for a while, writer's block hit hard until I actually had stuff to procrastinate.


	4. Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sat there like that for a few minutes before he explosively kicked the door of his car open, allowing the fresh air to rush into his lungs as he leaned against the side of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanfic is based on this post:https://batjokes-hell.tumblr.com/post/159639846726/batjokes-writing-i
> 
> Give them a follow and reblog some of their stuff if you haven't already, and you can find me on Tumblr at jokersby.tumblr.com.
> 
> Comments/kudos' are very much appreciated!

Nothing.

Bruce hears absolutely nothing from Jack.

Despite all the times Bruce thought he felt his phone buzz and he pulled it out of his pocket, he never got a text or a phone call from Jack. It worried him slightly, but then remembered that there are still boundaries when it comes to new people in one’s life, especially when that person is into you.

At the manor, everything is running smoothly. All the old appliances are being replaced with new ones, including the wires that ran through the old walls, and a new high-tech security system was being installed. It took a lot for Bruce to move forward in changing the Manor so drastically, but after talking to Alfred more and more about it, and after the west wing’s electricity went out due to old faulty wiring, he eventually convinced himself. He knew that getting new wiring drastically outweighs having a house fire and called the contractors the next day. Going to the Manor during the process of tearing everything up caused his gut to twist. He said hello to the head contractor and told him that everything looked good and asked for an estimated time for when it would be finished. To Bruce’s dismay, the contractor told him that he didn’t know. Bruce left as soon as he could, unable to look at his home disappearing behind him, self-imposed guilt resting in the pit of his stomach.

On his way back to the apartment complex, he stopped by the local supermarket to pick up a few small things to get him through the week and other household necessities. Before he went inside, he stayed sitting in his car for a long time thinking about the mansion. One thought led to another and he was led down the path of thinking about the night that his parents were murdered. Sitting in silence, he gripped the steering wheel of his car until his knuckles were white, trying his best to prevent the hyperventilation that would lead to a panic attack. He sat there like that for a few minutes before he explosively kicked the door of his car open, allowing the fresh air to rush into his lungs as he leaned against the side of the car. He looked up at the sky, watching a bird fly by before he looked around, hoping that no one saw his little episode.

No one was around.  
Thank God.

With a sigh, he shut the door of his car and locked it, walking into the store while checking his phone in the off chance that Jack tried to get a hold of him. 

He didn’t. 

 

Bruce walked into the polished lobby of Cobblepot Heights holding a few plastic bags in each hand. His eyes scanned the lobby, his eyes falling on a frantic looking building manager digging around his desk and a scantily dressed blonde woman who was chewing bubble gum leaning over it, watching him like she was waiting for him to retrieve something for her. It took only a second before the blonde spotted him, flashing him a large lipsticked smile. She pushed away from the desk, leaving Cobblepot alone, and approached Bruce, reaching her hand out to shake hands with him.

“Hiya, you must be that Bruce Wayne fella. I’m Harleen Quinzel, but my friends call me Harley.” He looked at her hand before placing the bags he had on the ground to shake it.

“Hi Harley, uh,” he looked behind her at Cobblepot making a phone call while he used a tissue to wipe the sweat off of his face, “what’s going on? Mr. Cobblepot looks stressed out.”

“Oh, you’ll find out later,” she hums, blowing a bubble. “What I’m more concerned about is what happened between you,” she pokes his chest before using the same finger to point up at the ceiling above them, “and my little friend J last night.” Bruce could feel his face redden and he turned his head to look away from her. He chewed on the inside of his lower lip before he made himself stop so he could talk.

“How do you know about that?” Bruce turned his head back towards her to see a very smug looking Harley with a hand on her hip and the finger she poked Bruce with was twirling a strand of her blonde hair.

“Well he called me after what I can assume was after he took ya home. He was waasted, Brucie-Boy.” Harley paused for a split second, her smiling faltering for a moment and her eyes flicking away from looking at Bruce. “But, he was upset,” she said, dropping her voice so that Cobblepot couldn’t hear any more of their apartment gossip. “He said he kissed ya without askin’, and he felt reeaal bad about it. I mean, J’s always been kinda weird with his feelin’s and relationships. I should know, we dated before we both found out that we didn’t quite play for the same team,” she raised her eyebrows a bit and looked Bruce over, “and it didn’t turn out so well. He’s lucky that I’m a forgivin’ person.” She looks towards the front doors of the apartment, watching a couple cars go by as she blows another bubble. After only a second, she turns back to Bruce and gives him a playful slug on the shoulder, giving him a bit of a concerned smile. “Good luck with him, tiger, and be gentle with J, alright?” She then gave him a smile before twirling around on her heel to begin walking towards the stairs that led upstairs. “See yaa~!” She then whipped the door open and began bounding up the stairs like a child, not giving Bruce any time to say anything back to her and leaving him alone with a busy looking Cobblepot. He only gives him a glance before picking up his plastic bags and walking towards the elevator, hitting the button to summon it. He then waited for what seemed like forever only to have the elevator not come down to him. He sighed deeply and walked over to the same door that Harley exited through, struggling with the handle before walking through and slowly making his way up to his floor.

 

Upon reaching his floor, he walked into a living nightmare. 

All along the walls and ceiling were playing cards, all of the same brand. They had all been stuck to wall haphazardly and individually while Bruce was out of his apartment for the day. Bruce could feel the anxiety ripple through his body, his mind flashing back to the nightmare that included that twisted version of Jack. He almost dropped the bags he was holding as he felt his mouth grow dry and his hands began to sweat. He was frozen where he was standing, unable to do anything to get to his apartment. He was too afraid. He didn’t want to see Jack as a monster. Jack was not a monster.

Bruce’s attention is snapped from the end of the hallway to a door opening near him, watching Harley pop her head out before she opens her door completely, eyes scanning the hallway before they fell onto Bruce.

“You okay, B-man? You look a bit pasty there.” Her smile was more of a smirk as she raised an eyebrow at him. She then looked around the hallway for a moment before her blue eyes rested back onto Bruce. “You like J’s little project? He did it after you left. He does things like this when he isn’t having a,” she brought her hands up to make quotation marks around her next set of words, “’good time’.” Harley crosses her arms and she lets out a sigh, leaning against the frame of her door, her body language becoming a bit more sad. Bruce swallowed, trying to wet his whistle before he spoke.

“I’m… sorry that you got dragged into what happened between me and Jack.” Harley smiled at him, her eyes sad.

“It’s okay. I’m just happy to see J happy again. He really likes ya.” 

Bruce goes to open his mouth, intending to speak, but arms wrap around Harley’s waist, causing her to giggle and lean back into the body behind her. A red headed woman behind Harley hugged her close, pressing a kiss to her cheek before resting her chin onto her shoulder. Sultry forest green eyes scanned over Bruce, before the woman smoke in a low voice.

“Harls, who’s your little friend here?”

“It’s Bruce, the guy J was callin’ and talkin’ about.” Harley turns her head to place a kiss on the side of the red hair’s head, placing her hands on top of hers. The red head’s eyes turn serious as she stares Bruce down. She frowns slightly before she points a manicured finger towards Bruce.

“Be careful, okay?” The red-haired woman then pulled Harley closer to herself, tickling her sides to cause laugh to erupt from the blonde. Harley then turns around, her back facing Bruce as she starts to move her and her partner further into their apartment.

“I’ll catch ya later Bruce. Byee~!” She kissed the red-haired woman, shutting the door to leave Bruce alone in the playing card hallway that he was utterly terrified of. 

The silence settled around him and he could hear the same swing music that he could hear the night before as he fell asleep. He found himself staring at a Joker card that was near himself before he placed the bags in one hand down so he could reach out and pull it off, causing other cards around it to flutter to the floor. He looked it in his hand before he looked down at his door. He pocketed the card and picked the bags back up, finally getting his heavy feet to carry him down to his apartment door. He now looked at what cards that were stuck to his door, noticing that they were only of the heart suit. Bruce sighed and placed some bags down to allow himself to unlock his apartment door, allowing himself inside.

 

That evening, Bruce was sitting in his living room in pajamas eating Chinese food that he had ordered. When the food had arrived and he answered the door, all the cards in the hallway were gone. The only card that was left was a single King of Hearts that was placed on his door. He of course took it off and kept it, like he did the Joker card.

Bruce’s attention was fixed on a low budget sitcom that he truly hated, but continued to watch because he hadn’t bought cable quite yet. He was about to take a large bite of noodles when he heard light tapping on a window to his left. He turned his head, a bite of fear pinching at his chest. He slowly placed the Chinese food down before the window was opened from the outside. 

Jack leaned into Bruce’s apartment, resting his arms on the window sill. He gave Bruce a small smile before shifting to have his elbows down on the window sill while his hands came up to rest under his chin.

“Wanna come out here and share that food with me?”

Relief rushed through Bruce and he found himself smiling at him. He was actually really happy to see Jack. He stood up and grabbed two boxes of the food that sat in front of him, walking over to the window and handing them to Jack to hold while he climbed out to the fire escape. He sat down across from Jack, legs crossed, as he took one of the boxes back from Jack. Jack started eating while Bruce just sort of, looked at him. Jack looked like shit. He was wearing an old t-shirt that was a size too big and had a faded graphic on it, and a pair of plain gray sweat pants. His hair was a mess and there were bags under his eyes. Silence sat over them for a few minutes before Bruce sighed and then spoke.

“Jack, are you okay?” He sat the food aside, putting his focus entirely onto the man in front of him. Jack picks at his food before replying.

“I’m sorry for kissing you last night,” Jack said softly, his eyes cast downwards, “we were drunk, and being dumb, and I should have asked. I don’t even know like, which team you bat for. I really hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable…”

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows, not hearing what he wanted to hear. He looked down at Jack’s hands, seeing that they were shaking. He shifted the way he was sitting before he moved forward, taking the food from Jack’s hands and set them aside before he took them into his own. They were thin and cold, which thankfully, Bruce’s hands were warm and would hopefully warm him up a bit. 

“Jack, I’m fine. I just, haven’t really been with another guy, I mean, I haven’t really truly dated anyone. Those girls I go to events or dinners with are just girls that my publicist places me on dates on to help their popularity or something.” Bruce rubbed his thumbs over his skin, looking into Jack’s eyes, which were averted away from him. Bruce hesitated before he continued to speak. “I’m not mad, or upset with you, and I really wanted to kiss you when we were in my apartment.” 

Jack’s eyes slowly moved up to meet Bruce’s, looking for some sort of sign that he was lying but he found nothing. He just took his hands from Bruce’s and moved forward, wrapping his arms up around Bruce’s shoulders, hugging him tightly. Bruce’s arms come up to hug him back, allowing them to sit like that for a few minutes. Jack eventually pulled back and sat back down in front of him, looking down at the street below them. A cold breeze blows by, causing the pair to both shiver. Bruce stands up and stretches, looking down at Jack.

“Do you want to come into my place? We can watch some TV or something for a bit and eat. It’s kinda chilly out here.” He held a hand down to Jack, wanting to help him up. Jack gives him a nod, taking his hand and pulling himself up.

They both pick up the food that Bruce had brought out and crawl through the window into Bruce’s apartment. They both eventually sit down on the shitty couch after Bruce shuts the window and they sit the Chinese food down on the coffee table in front of them. Bruce turned the TV back on and flipped through the channels before settling on an older movie, since it was the only thing on. It was reaching the time in the night when most channels were just infomercials. Jack, not really knowing personal space still, maneuvered himself to be under Bruce’s arm to that it was over his shoulders and he was cuddled up to him. He rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder while one of his hands held onto the fabric of his shirt. Bruce turned his head to look at him, finally seeing how tired he looked and rubbed his shoulder gently, welcoming him into his typically off-limits personal bubble. 

They both watched the movie for a while, comfortable just sitting there with each other. Jack soon fell asleep, Bruce now assuming that he hadn’t slept at all the night before. He looked at him for a moment before he turned the TV off. He began to gently shake Jack’s shoulder, trying to wake up a bit.  
“Hey, Jack, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Nooo!” Jack whined, shaking his head and stretched tiredly. Bruce sighed a bit and nodded, helping him up before he guided him to his bedroom.  
“Here, settle in. I’m going to go clean up.” Bruce watched him climb into the bed, curling up in the large duvet and almost completely disappearing into it. He left the room and went back into the living room, gathering all of the Chinese food and putting it all into the fridge. He returned to the bedroom to find a half-asleep Jack peeking out at him from under the covers. Jack then wiggled out of the blankets some so he could open his arms up at Bruce, wanting him to come close to himself. Bruce can’t do anything but to give him a soft smile and a blush on his cheeks before he moved into the bed, allowing Jack to wrap his arms around him. He fixed the blankets on them and brushed the hair out from Jack’s face, Jack’s eyes closing. Bruce watched him for a minute before he closed his own eyes as well, falling asleep quickly to the sound of Jack’s beating heart and the warm feeling of him in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's gonna be a little bit before I get chapter 5 out because I'm gonna be focusing on a one-shot I'm putting together. So, stay tuned!!!


	5. Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt like he didn’t get to ever get a good look at his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MAN I apologize for taking forever on this. I've been in a big writing block but I've been wanting to start other projects at the same time. I don't know, hopefully I'll try to work on this more. 
> 
> The fanfic is based on this post: https://batjokes-hell.tumblr.com/post/159639846726/batjokes-writing-i
> 
> Give them a follow and reblog some of their stuff if you haven't already, and you can find me on Tumblr at jokersby.tumblr.com.
> 
> Comments/kudos' are very much appreciated!

Bruce was in an abandoned warehouse. 

Around him was painted brightly with neon greens and purples and the haunting sound of old carnival music floated through the air. The air smelled like a mix of popcorn, circus peanuts, and blood. As Bruce walked by a broken window, he saw a glimpse of himself and he was wearing an odd heavy black costume that had pointed ears and a cape. His heart was racing and he had the terrible feeling of being watched.

Further he walked, the feeling of dread continued to seep into every orifice of his body. He looked around, looking at the malicious red smiles painted on the walls that were mocking him. Taking a deep breath, he continued forward and found himself in front of a door that was painted to look like a king of hearts playing card. Upon closer inspection, the king that was painted in front of him had a bloody smile and was holding a joker card. He pushed the door and walked in.

The room was empty except for a single spotlight that fell onto a hooded man who was sitting in a chair and his captor, a green haired painted clown of a ringleader. Jack. No, it wasn’t. But it was. Bruce’s head hurt and he couldn’t breathe. 

The clown, or Jack, did nothing but giggle and smile at Bruce before holding out his hand a dropping something to the ground with a wet thud. Looking down, Bruce saw it was a human heart, but as soon as he went to look at the painted Jack, he was gone and he was left with the man in the chair. 

Bruce stepped forward and gently tilted the hooded head back, now noticing that there was a large bloody hole in the man’s chest. He turned to look at the heart on the floor again, but like the clown it was gone too. His heartbeat quickened and he looked at the hooded man again, but only for a second before ripping the hood off.  
Underneath it was his own dead face, staring back up at him with blank blue eyes.

 

Bruce’s eyes shot open and he sat up, clutching his chest. His bedroom was bright and cold, and he was sweating. He rubbed his face and took a deep breath to calm himself down before laying back down, hearing the crinkle of a piece of paper as he did so. He looked over and saw that Jack, who had been sleeping with him, was gone. He pulled the note out from under himself and began to read it. 

“Sorry for ducking out before you woke up, but I had to go into work, some of us actually have to work to keep our jobs, you know. I’ll come by later and maybe we can ‘Netflix and Chill’ again ;).”

It was signed with a heart and Jack’s phone number was scrawled next to it. He grabbed his phone and put Jack into his contacts.

He left the bedroom, leaving his phone and the note on the bed, and walked into the bathroom with the intention of taking a shower before going through with his day. While he was in the middle of pulling off the t-shirt he had slept in, he paused, looking at his chest in the mirror. In the color that Jack had wrote the note, there was a heart drawn in pen on his left pectoral. Bruce froze for a moment, blue eyes wide in the mirror as flashes from the dream came back to him. He pulled the shirt back down and walked away, deciding that he didn’t smell that bad yet and that he’d shower later.

 

Thank god for Google or Bruce could have never found Jack’s little shop. Parking down the street, Bruce got out of his black car, looking in it’s direction. He had drove down this street a million times, but he had never noticed it. It was a brightly decorated shop, the outside bright and eye catching compared to the rest of Gotham City. The outside smooth walls were painted a bright lime green, and there were two small windows on either side of the bright blue door with purple window boxes containing fake flowers. The shop was extremely reminiscent of Jack’s apartment. Bruce took in a deep breath before he trekked the short sidewalk and then pushed open the door.

Soft swing music could be heard over the speakers as Jack showed off a magic trick to some kids who had wandered in off of the cold Gotham street. He was showing them a slight of hand trick with some cards, doing it quickly before doing it slow so the kids could try to do it themselves. Around him was organized chaos, bright colorful costumes and gag toys all around, including some candy up towards the cash register. Along the walls, there was little displays that seemed to be doing the tricks by themselves, but they were just small machines that kind of did the trick, and things like chattering teeth hung from the ceiling. It was all slightly overwhelming for Bruce, so he just sort of stood there, looking around. It took a moment but eventually after standing and looking around like he didn’t know what to do, Bruce and Jack’s eyes met, eliciting a blush from the both of them. One of the kid’s cell phone then rings, prompting the group of kids to leave, leaving Bruce and Jack alone. 

“I don’t think I ever told you the name of this place, or even where it was,” Jack started, a small teasing smile on his lips as he slipped behind the cash register counter and leaned forward, resting on his elbows.

“You didn’t. I was just curious. You told me you had a shop and performed or something, so I looked up joke shops nearby and it brought me here.” Bruce walked toward the table, grabbing a plastic wand that collapsed on itself and then put itself back together when waving it. “The outside of this place also has your M.O. written all over it. I mean I think I safely assume that anything that’s purple and green is yours.” Jack laughed at this and shrugged.

“They’re my favorite colors, but I think I’m starting to like blue and black a lot right now too.” He winked and moved to straighten up something on the counter. “So, are you here to buy anything or book me for an event? Or are you just here because you wanted to see me.”

“Honestly? I don’t know. I will buy something if you want me to.” Bruce reached out for a piece of candy. “How much is this?”

“One million dollars,” Jack said, matter-of-factly.

“What?” Bruce gave him a confused look and smile before grabbing the piece of candy and putting it on the counter. “Ha ha, very funny.”

“It’s made out of edible silver, I’m sorry I can’t make up the prices for silver.” Jack rung up the candy and it came out to be only a dollar and some change. Bruce rolled his eyes and paid for the candy, putting the collapsible wand back where it was supposed to go.

“When do you close today?” Bruce asked, picking up the candy to begin eating it, looking around the shop again. It was definitely out of Bruce’s comfort zone. He finished the candy.

“I close at six, are you wanting to hang out or something?” Jack looked at him, crossing his arms. He then blushed a bit and laughed before he continued to talk. “I promise we won’t get drunk and I won’t try to kiss you again.” Jack then looks a bit nervous or even a bit upset. It was hard to tell, but it was masked behind that wide smile of his. Bruce’s small smile however faltered.

“Jack, it’s okay. We were drunk, and hell, I kissed you back.” Bruce rubbed the back of his head, blushing a bit. “We can drink or whatever, but if we do anything, I don’t want us to move too fast or anything.” He shrugged, feeling weirdly vulnerable. He isn’t usually this honest about how he feels about things except for when he talks to Alfred. It made him nervous. There was a short silence before Jack just laughed. It shocked Bruce for a moment, causing his eyes to widen, but then he couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. Jack had an infectious laugh.

“Okay, well, I’ll come over when I close. I’ll bring the food this time. Let me spoil you a little bit.” Jack leaned forward and took Bruce’s hand into his own. He looked it over for a moment, caressing it. He noticed that Bruce’s hands were rough, calloused, and a little bit clammy. Jack’s hands, compared to Bruce’s, were well kept, manicured, and moisturized. While Jack looked at their hands, Bruce looked at his face, just looking him over. He felt like he didn’t get to ever get a good look at his face. He looked a lot like dream version of Jack, but he didn't have any of the grease makeup on. The door opened to the shop and Bruce reflexively pulled his hand back, his anxiety spiking.

“You can text me if you want, but I’ll see you later. Just pop in whenever. I’ll keep the door unlocked, and you have the window, as always.” He looked away for a moment, biting his lip before he looked back and gave Jack a small smile. “I’ll see you later.” Bruce then left while Jack went to tending to the customer who was looking for a clown costume. He then got into his black car and drove home thinking about how soft Jack’s hands are and his smile.


End file.
